Mercy And Justice
by otownsangel
Summary: When all of Hell’s fury is focused on one soul, very few could resist for more than moments… But Dean holds on. For six years… Only to be unleashed on earth, with no memory of his life, and just one mission: destroy Mercy and Justice.
1. Prologue: Mercy Screams Its Violent Love

_Disclaimer: _I own nothing…

_Summary: _When all of Hell's fury is focused on one soul, very few could resist for more than moments… But Dean holds on. For six years… Only to be unleashed on earth, with no memory of his life, and just one mission: destroy Mercy and Justice.

_Rating:_ R

_Author's Note:_ So, first _Supernatural_ fic… I've got a good chunk of it finished (though not in order, unfortunately). This one's short, I know, but I really felt like it needed to be ended here… Next chapter should be up soon. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

The title for this chapter and inspiration for this fic came from Flyleaf's "Justice And Mercy"...

* * *

**Prologue: Mercy Screams Its Violent Love**

* * *

There are some souls that simply refuse to crack. For decades, centuries, millennia… they hold on. Refuse to break.

And it's all the more fun that way. To watch a soul, desperate to regain humanity, struggle tirelessly against the torments of hell.

These tend to be those who have made the deals. The hunters. The witches. Those desperate to save someone they love, whatever the cost.

_They_ hold on.

The Winchester? He's no different. He's a hunter. A dealmaker. A man so damn willing to sacrifice himself, his soul would _have_ to be strong…

But they had never imagined exactly _how_ strong.

It's more fun to watch the suffering. There's a sense of sick satisfaction that comes from it, knowing that the more humanity remains, the more pain comes out of it all…

But there are times, times just like these, that require the breaking of a soul for the sake of survival… Times when all the focus, all the horrors and torments of hell are forced upon that _one_. When blood and tears and _hurt_ crush and squeeze and _force_ their way into the soul, painting it black, usually in a matter of days, sometimes weeks…

But never years. _Never_.

Except for the Winchester.

He holds on. He's strong. Too strong.

They force and they shred and they peel away everything he's ever been and strip him dry, and still, he clings. Like a mother to a dying child.

He holds tight, refusing to give, refusing to break.

For years.

Six years.

But even the strongest of souls cannot withstand the torments of hell for a lifetime…

* * *

He stands, every muscle in his body flexing against this new, awkward weight. He feels heavy; feels the strain of skin holding him captive in this shell he has been forced into. His shoulders shift back as he feels the sharp, hot pain of the mark that holds him here, in this skin. It burns a vibrant, fiery orange for only moments, before fizzling to a cold, dull black.

But the burning doesn't stop. He feels it still, deeper now. Holding him, sinking into rage. Into hate.

Into images…

* * *


	2. Chapter 1: Ease The Moment

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing…

_Summary:_ When all of Hell's fury is focused on one soul, very few could resist for more than moments, maybe days… But Dean holds on. For six years… Only to be unleashed on earth, with no memory of his life, and just one mission: destroy Mercy and Justice.

_Rating:_ R

_Author's Note:_ Well, next chapter's here... Can't make any promises from here on out, though. It'll probably be a while before the next chapter's completed. I've got ridiculous amounts of work between now and graduation… Which means, from now until about May 16th, I'm going to be busy as all hell, because I can't really afford to screw up in one of my classes, as that would mean no degree, and I kind of need that for Grad school, so… Yeah, could be a while.

As for the story, if it seems a bit out of character, keep in mind that it _is_ set six or so years in the future, and therefore a lot has changed… Also, my first _Supernatural_ fic, so it may just be that I'm still feeling my way through…

But anyway, this is it. Lyrics and title from Dishwalla's "Ease The Moment"… And thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter. I hope you continue to enjoy it. Let me know what you think.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Ease The Moment**

* * *

"Uncle Sam! Aunt Bela stole my toys!!"

He can't help but smile and chuckle just a little before he steps into the doorway, gazing in at Bela; the woman he had quickly learned to love when Ruby had slipped into a coma and she had stepped up to offer a mother to his brother's children… One of whom now sat pouting at the end of the couch, little arms pulled up tight across her chest as she tried her best to look pitiful. It was almost uncanny how much the tiny little girl looked like her father… But strangely enough, he wasn't even able to pinpoint why. He was incapable of naming even one feature on the child that _really_ resembled those of his brother… And yet, she just _radiated_ Dean. Like he had somehow become a part of her. His soul all twined up with that of his little girl, just to torment them with similarities that didn't actually exist.

He put on his best serious face then, and it really wasn't all that difficult. Whenever he thought of the girls that way, like they really were a little piece of their dad, he couldn't quite break the serious from himself, even when they looked so damn adorable. "Did you deserve it?" He lifted his brow in question, watching her expectantly as he crossed his arms over his chest and awaited her answer.

It didn't come. She simply sat there silently; looking at him like he had just sacrificed her to the wolves.

"Mercy…?" Sam urged, tilting his head and using that tone that the little girl just _knew_ meant business.

"Maybe…" She finally mumbled, dropping her chin to her chest and staring at her arms as she refused to meet his eyes.

"What did you do?" he questioned expectantly, his eyebrows lifting in inquiry.

"_Noth_ing." That answer was just _so_ indignant for such a little girl, that Sam could barely hold in the smile that threatened, and it didn't help that he could see Bela out of the corner of his eye, biting her lip and trying desperately to hold back the laughter that the smile on her face was betraying.

"Mercy Anne Winchester. _What_ did you do?"

She got quiet when she heard his tone, her little eyes dropping down, her face suddenly all sadness. "Nothing."

It was tiny, and barely audible, and he could just _tell_ she was on the verge of tears. It got to him just a little bit, and he was just about to drop the tough act, when Bela stepped in. Luckily, she had had the chance to pull herself together, and she gave him the look… The one that said _'don't-you-_dare_-back-down'_, just before she spoke up.

"She hit Justice with her doll. So I took them away."

"Because she's mean." Mercy argued, her eyes narrowed now, as she glared at her aunt.

"_Mercy_." Sam scolded, his tone immediately drawing her attention to him. "You know better than to hit your sister, and aunt Bela is not _mean_ for punishing you when you do something wrong. Now I think _you_ need to go upstairs and apologize to your sister. Now."

It didn't take long before Mercy was scampering upstairs to apologize to her sister, and Bela was sighing deeply, dropping her head back into the couch and letting out a long breath, running a hand over her forehead. Sam gave a little sympathetic smile before moving to make himself comfortable beside her.

"You alright?" He asked gently, reaching out to pull her to his side.

"Yeah," she assured softly, "they're just always trying to pit us against each other. Especially Mercy. That kid has got _far_ too much of her father in her."

Sam chuckled a bit at that, running a hand over her arm in reassurance. "That she does."

"I'm still not sure I'm cut out for this." Bela admitted, shaking her head.

"What're you talking about, Bel? You've been doing great for the last six years."

"Yeah," she laughed lightly, glancing up at him, "but for the first five they weren't so damn stubborn and belligerent. Honestly, Sam, if they're this bad at six, what the _hell_ are we going to do when they turn into teenagers?"

"Oh, we'll find a way." Sam told her gently.

She sighed and leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder as she curled into him. "I guess I just wish Ruby were still around. I mean, with Dean we knew, but Ruby… I just wish she'd wake up."

"I know, babe." Sam kissed her forehead, wrapping his arms around her as he tried his best to reassure her. "I know."

* * *

_And sometimes the angels keep us safe from drowning  
So find a reason in the silence...  
Love, love is in reach_

* * *

He was watching, eyes glued to the scene that unfolded before him, as he lurked in the shadows beside the pretty little house with the white picket fence. He wasn't hiding, perse--no, there was no reason for such action. Whoever the man was, he could do little to prevent any action that he chose to take against them.

And the scene was fascinating. The child. The way she responded to their reproaches**. **And the way she listened while clearly holding onto conviction with sheer force of will…

But none of that mattered. It held no significance to him…

And yet, somehow, it did…

* * *

_They say that this life's unkind  
A blasted out silent mind, in quiet pain  
They say we run where the demon's lie  
Well, sometimes they break_

* * *

He was sleeping peacefully, lost in a world where none of this was real. Where there was nothing but himself and Dean. On the road. Hunting. Doing what they had always done best… They were brothers again.

But it only took a moment for Bela's fear stricken shriek to break him out of that…

"Sam! Sam, where the hell are the girls?!"

She was terrified; he could hear it in her voice as she flew up the stairs, eyes wild as she burst through their bedroom door. He was confused, couldn't get his head around what she was saying… Because, no matter what, nothing could happen to those girls. Because if something did; if they were scared, or hurt, or worse, it was on his shoulders, and he had failed to protect those closest to him once again…

And that couldn't happen…

"They're gone! Sam, they're gone!"

Her words shattered his world, and he was up and out of bed and sprinting to the girls' room quicker than he would have previously believed himself capable…

Because she was wrong. She had to be. These were their girls. _Dean's_ girls. The children he had sworn to protect with his life, his soul…

And they couldn't be gone. They _couldn't_.

And yet they were. No trace but the open window that caught the curtains in an eerie dance in the moonlight and the faint scent of sulfur that he had been so well trained to detect…

* * *

_They say that this life's unkind  
So find a reason in the silence..._

* * *


	3. Chapter 3: Still Frame

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing…

_Summary: _When all of Hell's fury is focused on one soul, very few could resist for more than moments, maybe days… But Dean holds on. For six years… Only to be unleashed on earth, with no memory of his life, and just one mission: destroy Mercy and Justice.

_Rating:_ R

_Author's Note:_ Does it suck? Yes, I'm sure it does. Do I care? Shockingly, no… because for some reason I'm happy with it. Not thrilled, but happy enough to move on to the next one… So, yeah, hopefully it's not _too_ bad and I'm just being hard on myself like always. It's what I do. But then, everyone's their own worst critic, are they not? And I apologize for the rant… I think I need to sleep more…

Anyway, thank you all so much for the reviews on the last two chapters. I really appreciate your feedback, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

Lyrics and title from "Still Frame" by Trapt

* * *

**Chapter 2: Still Frame (Falling Farther Away)**

* * *

_I see the clock and it's ticking away  
And the hourglass empty  
What the fuck do I have to say?_

* * *

They were at Bobby's, Bela curled into Sam, as she slept against his shoulder, his shirt still wet from her tears. He felt cold, guilty. Their whole lives he had sworn to protect those girls, and yet here they were, lost and broken, their children at the hands of god only knew what. And he was terrified. Because all he wanted was to have his girls back, and if they had been taken--if they had been taken, he couldn't imagine any demon who would leave them unharmed…

Bobby handed off a cup of coffee then, silently, waiting for Sam to speak, as he settled himself in the chair across from the young couple, eyeing them carefully. There was something he wanted to say. Sam could see it in the way he watched them. And really, wasn't that what they had come for anyway? If no answers could be offered here, he was gone, because he needed to find them; dead or alive (and he prayed to god that it would be alive), he needed to find them. Needed to _know_. His girls were in trouble. _Dean's_ girls were in trouble. And he couldn't lose the final link he had to his big brother. Not like this.

"What is it Bobby?" His voice was quiet; he was trying desperately to keep from waking Bela until he absolutely had to… Because she didn't deserve this, and, he imagined, she could use this one little solace in the struggle he was sure they were about to face.

"Look, Sam, I don't have any answers for you. I don't know how to help you… But I do know someone who can."

He was intrigued, but wary. It seemed there was little confidence in Bobby's reassurance, and that worried him significantly. "Who?"

"It's gonna sound crazy," his eyes were in his coffee cup, and he sighed before lifting them to Sam's, "but I think you need to talk to Ruby."

"You're right," Sam began slowly, his voice calm as he watched Bobby closely, "I think you're crazy. Bobby, Ruby's been in a coma since the girls were born. How the hell are we supposed to talk to her?"

"I don't know, kid. I really don't," his eyes were full of sympathy as he took in the sight of Sam, fighting so hard to keep it all together when he knew the boy was just shy of losing it, "but if anyone can give you answers about the whereabouts of those two girls, it's their demon mother. She's connected to them, Sam, we both know that, and there's no one else on earth who would be able to help like she could."

"Yeah, Bobby, I get that--but it doesn't change the fact that she's been comatose for _six_ years. We have tried _everything_ to bring her out of it and nothing has ever worked. So even if she _could_ help us, Bobby, there's no way to get an answer out of her."

"That might not be entirely true."

Her voice caught them both off guard, and Sam was instantly both intrigued and more confused than ever. "Excuse me?"

"There are ways, Sam." She pushed herself up slightly, her eyes locking with Sam's. "And Ruby, she's powerful. Especially since she gave birth to those girls. Awake or no, _something_ in her changed when the girls were born, and it's not something either of us have ever been able to ignore. She's _there_, Sam. Somehow, she's there, and I don't know how exactly we can get a message _from_ her, but I know damn well that it shouldn't be hard to get one _to_ her. And if she's as powerful as I believe she is, she'll find a way."

Sam's eyes lifted to Bobby's then, his face set and all but indifferent.

She was right.

* * *

_Please help me 'cause I'm breaking down  
This picture's frozen and I can't get out _

_A small confession, I think I'm starting to lose it  
I think I'm drifting away  
From the people I really need_

* * *

He stood outside the room, no idea what Bela was doing in with Ruby. It looked like she was talking to her. Just talking. To a comatose woman. It was useless, and he was itching to leave -- to find _someone_ he could hold responsible for the disappearance of his girls… But Bela had made him promise to stay with her. She'd claimed it was because she needed him there. He knew it was because she feared he would do something stupid.

So with crossed arms, he paced, trying his best to hold it all together. There was a child sitting across the room with her mother, and he knew he scared her. It didn't surprise him… He wasn't exactly a small man, and he knew better than anyone that anger was radiating from him in waves. And yet it seemed there was little he could do to calm himself, no matter how hard he tried.

When Bela stepped out, he nearly lost it, pulling her aside, and whispering frantically as he tried to decipher exactly what she had accomplished.

After a moment, she cut him off, her voice calm, "Sam, I don't know…" The words came with a little shake of her head, her eyes locking on his as her voice just dripped sympathy.

"What the hell do you mean, you don't know, Bela?! Our children are _missing_, and we just wasted an hour for you to tell me you _don't know_!" He was gesticulating erratically, and no matter how desperately he tried to keep his voice a whisper, he knew he was far from succeeding.

"Sam!" she scolded quickly, as she took in the intense anger in his demeanor, and caught a glimpse of the cowering child and the mother's angry glare from the corner of her eye. "There's a little girl over there, who's scared to death because of _you_. Now honestly, Sam, how the hell would you feel if some stranger were acting this way around Mercy and Justice?"

He glanced up, his face falling with a bit of sympathy and regret at his actions. "Look, Bel, I know I'm being an ass, okay? I _know_. But my children are _missing_ right now, and I don't know what the hell to do!"

"Sam, I know you're scared, but so am I, okay?" She told him gently, tears prickling at her eyes as she looked at him. It broke her heart to see him this way, but worse than that, it broke her heart that he seemed to think she just didn't care. "I love those little girls just as much as you do."

His eyes softened then as he let out a sigh. "I know that, Bela, but it's _different_. You love them, I know, but they're _Dean's_ children. I already let him go, Bel, I _can't_ let that happen to those little girls. I can't let my brother down like that. Not again. I just _can't_."

"Alright, Sam, I understand that." She took his hands in hers, her voice gentle, as she urged him to remain calm. "Decker is going to watch her for us; make sure nothing happens that he doesn't know about. We've got a handful of allies on the staff here, Sam, and they're the ones taking care of her. They know what to look for, and they know how to help us, so just trust them, and trust _me_. Even if this works, Sam, it's gonna take time. Did you really expect her to wake up and tell me everything the second the words were out of my mouth?"

"No," he admitted quietly, shaking his head, "I guess not."

"So until we hear something about Ruby, let's get to work on a couple of other angles, okay? This isn't our only option, Sam, it's just the most reliable." She saw his eyes drop as he tried to hold back the emotion she knew he was feeling. He was terrified, worse than she had ever seen him… and he was angry. It was all tearing him up inside, and she desperately wanted to make all that hurting stop. So she pulled him into her arms, whispering against his ear, "We're going to find them, Sam. We're going to bring them home."

* * *

_Believe me, I'm just as lost as you  
Believe me, I'm just as lost as you  
I'm breaking down  
I'm just as lost as you  
I'm breaking down_

* * *

They're strange, the girls. They have these eyes. So blue they're almost translucent. And big. Big, wide eyes that he thinks might just be looking right into him. Eyes that track the knife he holds and drill into his features as they gaze, knowingly.

They know him. They recognize this face. The one that belongs to the skin _they_ have dressed him in. It is not his. It could never be his, and one day, when they are gone, he will be free of its prison.

But that recognition does not only exist in their eyes. No, he can feel it, floating, dancing in his own, as his mind tries to pull up something long forgotten and oh so deeply buried.

He imagines it must be some long forgotten image that pulls at the mind that belongs to the skin he wears.

But it's dead. He _knows_ it's dead.

Because if it weren't, he would feel the warmth of blood flooding through it, the whir of every stupid human process, and, most importantly, the thoughts and memories of the one who shares the skin.

But there is none of that. None but this perturbing feeling that nibbles endlessly at the back of his mind, trying to remind him of something he must have once known, and should still, as he stands, watching these two little girls, nothing but purity and sadness echoing in those bright, sad eyes.

And somehow, the knife never quite makes it to their throats.

Instead, he decides on torture.

Slow. Pain. Burning.

And he seems to remember suffering the same, in some long forgotten hell…

* * *

_I'm afraid I'm falling farther away  
I'm falling farther away  
I'm falling far from where I want to be_

* * *


End file.
